“What did he call you for?”
“He didn’t. He called you and got me. I was waiting for you. At the Morrison. We had a date tonight, remember?”
She had a key.
“Oh, hell. I forgot all about it…”
“Never mind that. Just let me hold you.” She held me. “Hold you.”
I squeezed her tight. She smelled good. Not like face powder, or roses, either. Probably the Chanel #5 I bought her.
Then I broke the clinch.
“Peg, what did Lou want?”
“He said he’d found the guy you were looking for.”
“Tendlar?”
“I think so. Who’s that?”
“A guy that works for me. A guy that used to work for me, anyway. What else did Lou say?”
“He said he was sitting on the guy for you.”
I smiled. “Good. Anything else?”
“He said to tell you this guy wasn’t feeling good and needed some special medicine.” Peggy made a confused face. “He said to tell you you were going to have to feed this guy…this doesn’t make sense…a certain fish.”
I laughed. “It makes sense to me. I’m going to have to make a call, and get somebody to take my place, here.”
“Aren’t you going to look after my uncle?”
“I can’t do it twenty-four hours a day, Peg…but I’m going to do my best to keep him alive.”
“You didn’t do so good this afternoon, did you?”
“Are you scolding me?”
“No.” She came back into my arms. “I was sick when I heard. Worried for you. Scared to death for Uncle Jim. He’s been so good to me, Nate.”
“What am I, chopped liver?”
She kissed me; sweet and long.
“You don’t taste like chopped liver,” she said.
“Neither do you,” I said, and kissed her back.
She pulled away, straightened her dress and said, “Those gangsters did this, didn’t they?”
“Sure.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“I’m going to try to keep your uncle alive, for the immediate future. And then convince him to sell his business to them.”
The violet eyes popped open like windows whose shades got yanked. “Give in to them?”
“Of course, give in to them. What else?”
She shook a fist. “Well, fight them, of course! Like Uncle Jim!”
“Yeah-just like Uncle Jim. Who’s on his back with his collarbone shattered and his arm mangled, throwing down transfusions like a drunk with a fifth of whiskey and a water glass.”
She shook her head, shook her head. “I don’t believe you’re saying this. Surely you want to get the people who shot Uncle Jim-who tried to kill you! Don’t you think they ought to be brought to justice?”
“What justice is that? They own the cops, or most of the cops, anyway.”
“I don’t know…it just doesn’t seem right. We should do something.”
“You should do nothing but give your relatives some moral support. I’m going to do my job and see if I can’t keep your uncle alive.”
She sighed. She shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”
“But you’re disappointed in me.”
“No. Not really.”
“What happened to not wanting me to take dangerous assignments?”
“This is different. This is personal. This is family.”
“This is nuts.”
“I just wish you…we…could do something, damnit!”
“I’m not Gary Cooper, honey. Nobody is.”
“Gary Cooper is,” she said, with a little pout.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think his real name is Frank.”
That made her smile, and she came over and gave me another hug. About then, Jim, Jr., came and found us.
“Pop’s back in his room,” he said. He looked ashen. I think the sight of his wounded father had shaken him pretty bad. “He’s awake-wants to see Mr. Heller.”